


Christine

by DixieDale



Series: Unexpected Encounters [3]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 17:43:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20362516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: You turn a corner and you meet a woman from your past, someone you had perhaps once loved, but never expected to see again.You HAD loved her - maybe.  She'd loved you - hadn't she?  At least for awhile?  But no matter, that was all then, and this was now.  You'd both said your goodbyes, parted ways to live your separate lives.  What was left to say to each other now?  Would it be 'hello' to a new beginning, or 'goodbye' once again?





	Christine

**Author's Note:**

> Christine was featured in tv episode 'War and Crime'.

He'd gotten her letter, that she was in London, wanted to meet him. No, more than that - wanted to get back together again.

His reaction was a surprise - somehow he would have expected something different from himself. Something other than that detached curiosity as to why she was there and why she wanted him back when she hadn't before. She'd moved on, told him so in New York, urged him to do the same.

But now it seems she really wanted to see him again, wanted it bad. There was that fervent "have never stopped thinking about you, Rainey", along with the promised "we could make a new start; it would be just like it was before, you and me, together again." 

{"You and me. Wonder what happened to Johnny?"}, he'd thought absently before folding the letter and putting it in his pocket.

Then, as he postponed answering that message, his detachment dissipated, turning into confusion and uncertainty, accompanied by a serious case of distraction. By the time he missed that throw on the range when practicing with his blade, almost skewering the Sergeant Major, he was in a rare state.

He'd stared in shock, the others doing much the same. Chief didn't miss with a knife; it just didn't happen! And he hadn't been fooling around, that was evident from the look of horror on his face.

Luckily Gil Rawlins was an intelligent man, assessed the situation immediately, didn't put that errant throw down to malice or even mischief. He just gulped, looked at that quivering blade half an inch from his nose, and told Chief, "I believe that's enough for today. And, Chief, you might want to check the balance on that knife; seems a bit off to me." Before he went to toss up his meager breakfast in the bushes. Well, all things considered, their Sergeant Major WAS 'a reasonable sort', as Goniff had always said.

That was when Chief knew he couldn't keep shoving the whole Christine thing to the back his mind. It was obviously messing up everything else in there, and if he didn't fix things, was more than likely to get him or someone else killed.

There had been a time when she was all he thought he'd ever wanted, another lost soul in a lonesome world joining with his so they weren't so lost anymore because they had each other. Someone who could make him feel not so alone, someone who seemed to want him, didn't shrink away because of his mixed blood. Someone he could make smile and laugh, when she'd seemed so sad when he'd first met her. Someone who was grateful for the things he could give her, even if they weren't the big, fancy kinds of things she could have gotten from another guy, one with a better job and a secure future.

Then he'd gotten into trouble, big trouble, trying to make a few extra bucks on the side, and had to run. Didn't run hard and fast enough, though, cause he ended up in the slam, and this time not even for something he'd done, just because he was a convenient scapegoat. Ended up in a hellhole where that was deemed to be his proper role for however long he was there, and if the warden had anything to say about it, it would one hell of a long time. Far longer than the time the judge had set down.

When they'd met last time, in New York, she'd chided him for not writing, not even letting her know he was alive. 

Hell, the head screw wasn't letting any letters go out, not from him; he'd learned that the first time he'd tried. Ended up with his envelope, torn into four neat pieces, dropped back through the bars of his cell, along with the comment, "Christine. Don't sound like a squaw's name, now does it? You writing to a white girl, boy? Maybe we oughta show you how we feel about that, huh?"

Well, they had, without even giving him time to answer. Not that he figured answering would do any good, either way; they'd already had their minds set on delivering a lesson. And they had, enough he'd spent the next week curled up on the floor, them having removed his cot just to emphasize the message, after they'd delivered that beating that left him limp and unconscious.

And even if he coulda gotten a letter out, what was he supposed to say? "Hey, Christine. Sorry I left without saying goodbye. I'm in prison now, will be for a long time if the Warden has his way; doubt I'll make it out alive, way things are going in here. Miss you. Have a nice life." 

Yeah, like she needed that. He'd figured she just didn't need to carry that with her; better to just have him gone.

And afterwards, with his record, what did he have to offer her? There was no way he was gonna get a decent job, be able to provide for her, not with a record like was tacked onto him by then. And the screws were just waiting for him to make a misstep, and he had, before three weeks were out. 

Making his way back North, getting into a fight on the gravel parking lot of a redneck bar cause of him tossing back one more drink than he should've and someone else tossing out one more expletive than he was willing to take. A guy had ended up dead in that fight, and while it wasn't the one Chief had been going toe-to-toe with, hell, the others were local boys, and there he was, sitting in a cell again, just in time for that visit from Garrison. That might have got him out into the open air again, with what you could laughingly call 'a steady job', but not in a much better position to be alive in a few months.

That trip back to New York, he'd replayed that so many times, if it were a record it'd be worn straight through by now. That sudden rush when he found out they were headed back, at least for a couple a days. Getting up his courage to call her. Then, her telling him, so gently, that she had someone else, that he should go on with his life. 

The recriminations were just as gentle, "you weren't there; I needed someone. Johnny was there." She'd reminded him that he hadn't even written to let her know he was alive. He'd kept his explanation just as simple, no details, just that he'd been in trouble, had to leave. They'd ended things pretty quickly, him trying to smile around the bile rising up inside, telling her as long as she was happy, that's what was important. Him giving her back that chain he'd worn for so long, sometimes the only thing other than his blade that felt real to him.

He'd left the park, a ship with both rudder and sails torn away, and instinctively made his way back to the hotel where the guys were waiting. He wasn't sure the Lieutenant would accept him back; knew it would be up to the officer, cause he wasn't gonna get down on his knees and beg. He hadn't begged Christine, he wasn't gonna beg Garrison.

Turned out it was simple enough, if not particularly easy. Oh, the guys were no problem, no more than he'd figured they'd be. They'd given him a fast look, then a raised-brow query from Actor. 

"You are back?" 

"Well, acourse 'e's back, Actor. Anyone could see that. Needs a drink, though, can see that just as well. 'Ere, Chiefy, just to get you settled in and all," had come from Goniff, anxious smile on his face, concern showing in his eyes, handing him a hastily-poured glass of whiskey. Just a single shot; Goniff knew he wasn't much of a drinker; it was ironic, really, this being one time he wouldn't have minded a double.

Garrison, though, that he wasn't looking forward too. The Lieutenant had been up front when he'd told them about this trip, what he expected, and one of them hightailing it out without a word of explanation, that wasn't on the list. 

Still, when Garrison and Casino got back, it hadn't been too hard.

"I'm back, okay?" he'd said, trying not to sound like a defiant child. 

He'd gotten a long, measuring look, a nod, and a calm, "okay," in return.

And it was over and done. And he did what she'd told him he should - stop running and live his life.

Til now. Til that letter from Christine.

There was a time when he'd not have said a word to his teammates, but that time was past. He wasn't gonna go all Whiny Dick on the guys, but they'd made a bargain - what was trouble for the team, trouble for one of them, was trouble for all, and no one was supposed to keep that kind of stuff to themselves. Well, that mess with Goniff had brought that to a head, and since Chief had lambasted their pickpocket real good, even if quietly and in private, for taking the lone road on that one, he didn't feel he was supposed to saddle up alone on this one.

"So, that's the story. Question is, what do I do now?" he ended glumly. "I've been sitting on that letter for more than a week now, trying to figure it out in my head, and not getting nowhere."

The other three had looked at each other, considering the story they'd been told. They remembered when Chief had briefly disappeared in New York, remembered his very annotated mention of Christine when they'd shared stories about the women who'd had the most impact on their lives. This was the first time they'd heard it all, although even with this telling, they were sure there was far more to it. Well, you couldn't condense a relationship - beginning, middle, end - in such a short span of words.

"The question seems to be, what do you WISH to do, Chief," Actor offered carefully.

"Hell, Beautiful, she dumped him! What the hell do you think he wants to do?" Casino grumbled. "Ditch the dame and forget about her!"

Chief flushed, wishing it was as easy as what Casino was saying.

"Now, Casino, aint always that easy!" Goniff protested. "Second chances don't come along all that often, and it's not easy knowing up front w'at you really want to do, take them up or let them pass on by. There's probably a lot to think on, not just this Christine, w'at was, w'at could be, but figuring in this job and the war and all. Sides, Chiefy didn't go dashing up to London to throw 'imself at 'er feet; means 'e must KNOW there's lots to consider. 'E's just asking our 'elp to sort it all out, not go telling 'im w'at to do."

Chief gave him a grateful look. "Yeah, there's lots to think about. For one thing, she can't handle being alone, told me that often enough when we were together. She took up with this Johnny cause she was alone. Don't know how long that was after I had to take off; didn't ask her. With me being here, with the team; being gone when ever the bell rings and we get send out - she'd be alone most of the time even if we did get back together. Less she lived local, and her letter says she's got a job with the civilian workers at one of the Allied hands-across-the-sea projects up there. What'd she live on if she came here? Not like my pay packet would go far enough, and there's no jobs around here close."

Actor broke in smoothly. "I think you are getting ahead of yourself, Chief. Starting at the beginning might be more productive. Perhaps before considering the logistics or the finances, you should determine what you think the most desirable outcome to be. Nevermind being realistic or practical for the moment, just picture what you would really like to happen, what it would look like, and take it from there."

Turns out it wasn't all that hard to figure that out, mostly just listening to himself as he talked it through out loud. The guys were patient with him, not pushing him to just get on with it. Even Casino had been more or less quiet, after a few admonishments from Actor and a thump on the head from Goniff, delivered with a "ruddy 'ell, Casino! Shut up and let the man get 'is thoughts in line! Ain't your ruddy ex-girlfriend, is it?!!"

He hadn't told them, not flat out, anyway, what he'd decided. Really, still wasn't totally sure, though he couldn't picture himself with Christine, not now. 

He tried, though, just like Actor had suggested - Christine and him walking through Brandonshire, driving up to London sometimes. Christine fixing dinner for him, him bringing her pretty things like he knew she liked. Christine in his arms, all soft and warm and willing. Somehow, he couldn't come up with any enthusiasm, not for any of it. 

Laying in his cot, staring up at the ceiling, wishing to hell he had a crystal ball, or at least a medicine pipe, something to let him see what he was missing, he'd whispered into the darkness.

"Hey, Goniff. Think Meghada's take a turn listening, maybe make sure I'm thinking straight?"

A sleepy reply reassured him, "sure, Chiefy. Does a prime job of it with me, and with as scrambled as my brains get, should think she'd find sorting through yours an easy enough job! Go on, we'll cover for you, won't we, guys?"

A grumbling assent from Actor, and a positively grumpy "yeah, yeah, whatever! Just shut the hell up and let me get some sleep, okay??!" from Casino, eliciting a smile from the others, and Chief was up and out the window, headed to The Cottage and a redhead who didn't tend to pull any punches.

No, she didn't pull any punches, he could have testified to that.

"Sometimes, Meghada, I could really hate you." From the look in Chief's dark eyes, that was certainly the truth.

She nodded compassionately, not offended in the least by his words. "Yes, I imagine that is so." Well, there were plenty who did, and for due cause. She was neither missish nor shy about speaking her mind when it was called for, nor about a great deal else as well.

He scowled, still smarting from what she'd just laid out in front of him. 

"Are you that blunt when Goniff comes to you with a problem?"

"Chief, I am what I am. I tell the truth as I see it." 

She paused, seeing the skepticism on his face, then shrugged in rueful acknowledgement that that wasn't precisely true, not always.

"Well, to those I care about, anyway, when they come seeking truth. And sometimes to others, but that is a different matter entirely, that being more in line with what Ainsley calls 'a little come-to-Jesus discussion', though that doesn't fit so well to me as it does to him, of course. 

"But truth - that WAS what you said you were looking for. You said you hadn't come seeking a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, or some sweet sugar-candy lies. You said you wanted the truth, and that is what I tried to give you. Or at least, my view of the truth, along with perhaps the questions that you need to answer in order for you to find your own truth. If you now want something else . . ." she paused, shrugged, knowing she could find some sweet lies to tell him if that was what he had now decided he needed. 

As she knew quite well, sometimes truth was not what the heart sought, no matter how much the mind tried to convince itself that was the case. And the sympathetic shoulder? He and the others she called friends, they would always find that here, though sometimes accompanied by a sharp slap upside their heads or a good kick in the seat of the pants if that also seemed warranted.

And as for Goniff? He'd never come looking for lies from her; he'd had too many of those in his life, had lived too many lies to want more. Sympathy, sometimes; comfort, sharing, someone to talk to who would also listen and understand, or at least try to. A lover, certainly. Sometimes a helpmeet, on a variety of levels. Often just to see his worth reflected in her eyes when he had trouble believing such even existed. But never lies.

Chief grimaced, took a sip of his coffee, and sat silently while he let all she'd told him, the questions she'd asked and the answers he'd either given, or was still struggling to find - let it all sift through his churning mind. 

{"Was I really looking for the truth, or WAS it lies I was after, no matter what I told her? Maybe even what the Warden calls 'tea and sympathy'? Hell, I don't even know anymore."}

She busied herself in the kitchen, doing things that didn't really need doing, giving him the time he needed. And when he lifted his head, sought her eyes with his own, she saw the resolution there, and went to sit back down, to offer whatever he had decided he really wanted from her. Truth, or sympathy, or sweet lies. 

Though, if it turned out to be the latter, she knew she would deliver those in a way that he knew it for what it was - fool's gold. Would not mistake them for anything else.

The choice, both now and ultimately, would be his. She knew she would be sad and more than a little disappointed in him for choosing self-delusion over self-knowledge. He was worthy of so much more. But the choice was his.

Casino was pissed and didn't care who knew it. He was being pushed to the sidelines and he damned well didn't like it and wasn't about to stand for it!

He'd arrived at the door to the Cottage, thinking Meghada looked uncommonly heavy-eyed and drowsy for that time of day, especially since Casino KNEW Goniff was still up at the Mansion and had been all morning AND last night, what with the Warden being on a tear after finding Chief gone the night before. 

Hearing that she'd been doing what she called 'scrying' sent a shiver up his spine; she and Chief sometimes gave him the creeps with all the 'woo woo' shit they seemed to think was just the usual run of the mill way you did business. 

Hearing that she'd been doing that stuff trying to get a handle on the mess Chief was in, that didn't help, especially when she put the kibosh on his emphatic assertion of how things were gonna go down at the upcoming meeting "with that damned broad!"

"I still say I go along, and if it looks like that broad is getting the best of him, starting to argue him around to doing something dumb, I step in and tell her what's what!"

Her eyes became distant, as if she was still staring into the water vision she'd summoned. 

"No, Casino. You go in as backup, the hook to pull him away when the clock runs down, maybe even before, IF he gives you the signal, but nothing else. And if he gives you the signal to pull back to the corner, wait him out, you do that too. You don't get within two yards of her, no matter what!"

"Now, look! He's my friend! If this dame is thinking to pull the wool over his eyes, yank him back now she's figured out she needs him and all . . ."

Meghada shook her head firmly. "Not you! Yes, unless he changes his mind, someone DOES need to step in and distract her, issue some sort of a warn off, but it cannot be you. Trust me on this. 

Her voice became intent, urgent, a strong match for the look on her face.

"Casino, don't you see? Even if he knows in advance, and he HAS to, you know; he has to be aware, every step of the way - it's still going to pull at his protective instincts, you going up against her. His and anyone else who's watching. YOU??! Think how it would look! Big, strong, tough guy like you, hovering over a poor, meek, sweet, helpless young thing like that, trying to bully her. We don't need any more complications, and with you directly involved, in the way you're thinking, it could, WOULD get very complicated."

She frowned, looking inward once more, remembering what had been reflected in that silver bowl of water and herbs. For someone not Gifted with Foresight, the Sweet Mother had given her an extremely clear picture of the possibilities. A highly foreboding picture.

An all-out brawl, Chief, Casino, several outsiders. Christine caught in the middle, getting that inadvertant shove that sent her sprawling to the hard walkway, striking her head sharply, never to rise again. Chief and Casino, both caught up in the depths of guilt and anger, shattering the friendship the two men had. Police involvement, warrants issued. Garrison being called to answer for letting 'those cons' get out of control, his career gone in a flash. And more, much more that made her want to weep at the remembering. None of that could be allowed to happen, none of it!

"You have no IDEA how complicated it could get! It cannot go that far, Casino; believe me!"

She looked at his scowling face, thankful to see that he was starting to listen to her, really hear her finally.

"Nevermind about Christine; if we do this right, she will find someone else once she realizes Chief is not opting for a reconciliation. And, in the long run, she is not our prime concern, wouldn't be even if she were a true innocent babe in the woods. CHIEF is our family; he is the one who gets our loyalty, our protection. Harsh, perhaps, but that's simply the way it is.

"Just don't make it more complicated for HIM, pitting old feelings against newer ones, what he thought he wanted versus what he is just realizing he DOES want, his instinctive protectiveness of a woman versus his protectiveness of a teammate. It's like with a typing machine, Casino. You push too many buttons at the same time, the result is not only unpredictable, but often damaging to the machine. In this case, Chief. 

"No, we need to keep it simple. He says he's not going back; that he's made his decision, but feels obligated to give her his decision in person, hear her out. So be it. He goes, he listens, he tells her. Then, when he signals, you use the hook to get him out of there, quickly and smoothly."

Casino growled, not overly happy with the scenario, but more accepting now. 

"And this 'distraction', the warn-off? Who handles that? The Lieutenant? Thought we weren't gonna involve him. You?"

She smiled, this time with a great deal more amusement. She had spent too many years making sure she was seen as an openly viable threat to go the opposite route now, not with any certainty of pulling it off. Kevin Richards had once told her, "there's just something about the way you move, I believe, Meghada. The set of your eyes, perhaps. I never have understood the fools who don't see that."

"No, as I said, it needs to be someone who will appear totally non-threatening, at least to outside eyes, any eyes watching from the sidelines, especially male eyes. Of course, appearances can often be deceiving. I was thinking of Coura." 

Her sister, not yet fourteen though often appearing a few years older, was somewhat of a force of nature, even among the Clan, and had a strong affection for Chief AND Casino, along with the rest of the crew.

Oh, her baby sister wouldn't fool Christine, {"a leopard or a wolf recognizes another of their kind, even when in sheep's clothing,"} and really, that would be missing the whole point any way. But any men watching? While Coura COULD appear older, she could also revert to what you'd more expect from one her physical age. They'd see one sweet young thing talking to another sweet if not quite-as-young thing in the park. Oh, maybe being a little spiteful and pouty, the pair of them, but still, not something they'd feel the need to interfere with.

Casino blinked, frowned. "The kid? But she . . ." He considered the possibilities.

Then a slow grin came to his ruggedly handsome face. "Yeah, that'd work. Could come across just as sweet, and innocent and helpless and all that as this Christine; even more so, maybe; I've seen her do it. And she's sharp enough to handle whatever the broad tries to pull. And could probably find a way of getting her point across that don't leave any mistake. You think she'd do it?"

"Casino," Meghada chided with a serene smile. "Chief is family. YOU are family. And Coura is - Coura. What do YOU think?"

She was still Christine. She hadn't changed all that much, same dark brown hair and big brown eyes, same gentle, sweet smile, same soft voice that had a certain earnest, almost childlike quality to it. 

As for him, well, that was where the difference lay. He had always been able to talk to Christine; she'd been pretty much the only one he HAD been able to, back then. But now?

Now, he didn't know what to say to her. It wasn't even as if he was overwhelmed by emotion, by memories. No, it was that, although he remembered the emotions he'd felt - at their first meeting, during their loving, at the ending when he'd taken off her chain - although he remembered it, it was as if the emotions had belonged to someone else. They were there, in his mind, but nowhere else. He hadn't been expecting that. Even if he hadn't felt it before, when he'd heard from her again, he'd really thought seeing her would bring it all back again. 

But it hadn't.

At one time she'd meant so much, had been the embodiment of every desperate hope he had. Now? He looked at her and felt - nothing. Nothing except a wariness that caused the hair to go up on the back of his neck. He instinctively glanced around, then down at the path, as if checking for a snare or jaw-trap.

She was trying to break the ice, smiling the smile he remembered so well. 

He'd felt his heart jerk, then melt the first time she'd smiled like that at him, and it had only taken that smile to pull him close each time they met. Til now.

"Rainey. I've often wondered, hoped you had gone back, started living your life the way you should. I'm so glad I found you; it's been . . ."

She slowed to a halt, seeming to realize she may have his physical presence, but the connection she'd once felt, the knowing that she was important (oh so important!) to him, that remained only in her memory. And she had been counting on that connection!

This wasn't what she'd expected, what she'd imagined through the intervening months. When Johnny had left, just packed his bags and walked, she'd thought long and hard about her options, thought about Rainey then. But there had been Mike, waiting the wings. He had only stuck around for a couple of months, though, and once again she was faced with being on her own. 

She didn't like being on her own; it was inconvenient, expensive and lonely. She'd been taken by surprise when Rainey disappeared. Usually she had some warning, some time to start laying the breadcrumbs for a replacement. But she hadn't been there yet with Rainey, and he still felt like unfinished business.

So, Mike left, and then there was Justin, that sweet banker's clerk who always smiled at her when she cashed her paycheck. He'd started taking her out to dinner, starting talking about a future together, but then he had unexpectedly been caught with his fingers in the till. 

So she was alone again, trying to pay the bills, finding a way to deal with the lonely nights. She'd found that so disappointing. When Justin had told her he would have more money soon, maybe start looking at a nicer apartment for her, she'd been thinking more in line of his getting a promotion, not embezzlement. And this time, just like with Rainey, she was caught off guard and there was no one waiting in the wings.

That's when she sat down and thought about what to do next. And that thinking had led her to England, England and Rainey. Well, she needed to move anyway, just in case Justin tried to put the blame on her for him all of a sudden not being satisfied with his pay packet. She didn't think he would, and that really would NOT have been fair, but just in case, she didn't want to be here in this apartment if anyone came asking questions.

It hadn't been that difficult, once she'd decided; they were looking for workers on the civilian front in one of the Allied 'cooperation' offices, and she had a friend who had a friend, and so she'd ended up in London. 

Rainey had told her enough for her to track him down, and she'd really thought that once she got a message to him, saw him once again, it would all settle back in place. After all, she'd been fonder of him than any of the others, and he had needed her more than any of the others had needed her, too. But he'd left her there, waiting, and she had never been good at waiting, especially on such an uncertain outcome. She'd been very fond of him, yes, but she hadn't been blind to his limited prospects.

This time though, it would be better. Oh, she might be waiting again, now, at least til the war was over, but surely he'd learned his lesson; knew she wouldn't just keep waiting unless he kept in touch, showed up sometimes. And the military would have to be grateful for what he'd done for them; that officer he talked about would probably help him settle into a nice job somewhere. And next time, he'd stay out of trouble. 

It would be fine; it would be like it was before, only better. It would be like a fairy tale, star-crossed lovers finally reunited, happily ever after.

But it hadn't been fine and it was NOT like before. She could tell that the minute she looked into his eyes. {"He's acting like I'm not even important to him anymore!!!"}

He'd replied to her message, he'd come, yes, and met her in the park, just as he had in New York when she'd told him to go on and live his life, move forward, not run away anymore. But that was when she'd had Johnny, and now she didn't.

She hadn't really thought he'd do it, move on, though she was glad he wasn't in trouble again, was still working with the military group he told her about. But she certainly hadn't thought he'd have moved on from HER, from what she had meant to him. That just didn't seem right, not when she'd been the center of his dreams back then.

Oh, she was quite well aware of his dreams, even the unspoken ones. The dreams of belonging, having someone who cared about him, someone he could feel safe enough with to show he cared in return, someone to appreciate him, (whether or not he had done anything to deserve any of that - most men didn't, in her experience!). Men talked, after all, even the quiet ones, and even when they didn't say much, sometimes there was as much you could learn from their silences as from their words.

Her eyes narrowed now, and her lips firmed. She'd come too far, disrupted her life too much, to just have him stand there like she meant nothing to him. She wanted him back; if she hadn't wanted him, she'd have stayed back home and found someone else, another 'Johnny', maybe another 'Mike' - someone else who liked her shy smiles and soft voice and sweet manner. She had never had any trouble FINDING someone before, it was the keeping that seemed to be the problem. 

Chief watched her face, seeing the determination written there, watching the wheels turn as she regrouped, considered her next move.

{"Amazing how much you can learn from working the con with the Warden, with Actor. Not just on how to pull one, but how to see when one's being played in the first place."}

He could have just turned and walked away, maybe should have. But he'd heard her out before; he could hear her out one more time. One thing he knew for sure, this time it wouldn't be like a dagger through his heart, not like it had been then. 

And maybe he owed her that, the listening. If it hadn't been for that hard blow, the pain he'd felt, maybe he wouldn't have gone back to that hotel room, to Garrison and the guys. And he knew now that would have been a huge mistake, one he might never have appreciated for the disaster it truly was.

When she'd seemed to have talked herself to a standstill, he gently removed her hand from his forearm, and stepped back out of reach.

"I'm not looking to go back to what we had, Christine. I got pretty much what I want right now. You told me to go on, stop running, live my life the way I should. Had to figure out what that was, ya know, 'my life'. But once I did, I stopped running, just like you said, and it's turned out okay."

Actually, it was better than okay, if more than a little dangerous, and, yeah, it might never be as good as what he knew it COULD be. But it was a hell of a lot better than anything he'd had before. Even what he'd had with her, since none of that had been real, not deep down. Now he had family, ones he could count on, ones who actually cared.

He remembered the Warden risking his neck for him; remembered the guys coming back for him when he'd figured they'd bail, just leave him behind. They'd dragged each other out of one mess after the other, and at the end, they'd not rested til everyone was back home. And the village? Meghada and her family? He had a place there too, a solid place he wasn't about to trade for a worn-out fantasy, for heady, sickly-sweet opium dreams.

"But it would be different here, Rainey. You're here, I'm here, we could be together again. It could be like before," she urged him, stepping in to lay her hand on his arm again.

He'd shook his head, shrugged, "even if, Christine. You don't like waiting, don't like being alone; we've been through that. You'd still be waiting, I'm gone most all the time, and maybe I'd be coming back and maybe not. There's a war on. That aint what you want. And, what it was before? That aint what I want either, not anymore. That's over and done, there's no going back. I don't want to go back."

{"You're not what I want anymore,"} he thought, though refrained from saying that out loud, figuring it was maybe a little harsh. True, of course, but not kind.

He figured everything that needed to be said, had been said, so he smoothed his hair back with his right hand, and waited. He figured the signal should be easy to spot, that help would be here in a minute.

"Indian!! Hey, Babe, thought this wasn't gonna take long! You finished yet?" Casino asked loudly from about six feet away. Chief's dark eyes met the chocolate brown ones of his teammate, his friend, and he nodded.

"Yeah, just about finished." 

He turned back to the openly frustrated young woman and nodded his farewell. 

"Christine." 

There was no hesitation in his face or in his voice, no wistful wonderings, and no pain. Just polite, calm indifference.

That was all, just her name. Well, what was he supposed to say, he was glad to have seen her again? He wasn't. That he hoped they'd meet again. Hell, no, he didn't. Though, the opportunity to get his head straight, on any number of things, he didn't regret that so much.

She fumed inwardly, but watched as Rainey strode away to join the rough-spoken, hard-eyed man who'd interrupted them. There was an easiness between them that she had never seen with her ex-lover before; Rainey had always held himself apart, the distance visible to any who watched. Now, there was a connection, a strong one, and it bewildered her.

{"He'll come around. I'll write him again real soon, make him understand. I'm sure he'll come around once he realizes . . ."}

A voice came from behind her, interrupting her thoughts, and she wheeled, realizing she was being addressed. 

Coura had accompanied Casino but split away, watching the interaction as it played out in front of her. {"Amazing what you can discern even when you can't really hear the conversation, only see the body lauguage."}

"So you're Christine." 

The speaker was young, certainly quite a bit younger than her, with red hair and amber eyes and an all-too-measuring look in those eyes, eyes far older than they should have been. 

"Yes, I'm Christine. Who are you?" She didn't know the young woman, wasn't particularly in the mood to make new friends, and her impatient, even annoyed voice bore that out. It was a voice she never used with a man.

"Oh, just a friend of Chief's, and the other guys too, of course. You made a mistake, you know, throwing away your chances like that. He's someone worth waiting for. Too bad." The lack of sincerity, at least in that last little bit, was evident, just as the total conviction of the rest was loud and clear.

Christine sneered, "and what? You're waiting for him? Aren't you a little young?" taking in the modest cotton dress, hair in soft braids.

"Oh, no. Well, yes, I'm waiting, but not for him. He doesn't need me; he already has someone who cares about him just as much as he cares about them." 

Coura didn't really think she was lying; he DID, they just didn't have things settled yet. It would come; she was sure of that.

"You don't know anything about it!" Christine snapped, none of the sweet, soft, gentle girl in her voice or her face anymore.

Coura shrugged, keeping that wide-eyed childish expression on her face; never could tell who was watching. 

"I know if someone is worth waiting for or not. I know when you spot a winner, you don't go placing side bets, trying to hedge the action; you put everything you have on that one roll. There's no guarantees you'll win, could roll snake eyes all the way, but if you do win, you win the whole pot of gold. And that's worth the risk, worth the wait."

Coura thought about her sister Caeide, who'd waited for Peter Newkirk since she was thirteen, was still waiting, knowing she wanted no other. About her mother, who'd waited til her father finally got over his stubborn refusal to see what lay between them. About Meghada, who'd wait for Goniff through this Turn of the Wheel, through however many Turns it took. Wait? That was a laugh! Her sister would go searching to the ends of the earth and beyond if Goniff just disappeared into the woodwork like Chief had done, and wouldn't rest til she found him, if nothing else than to make sure he was safe! As for her and her sister Ciena, well, they were doing their own waiting, til the most stubborn man in creation finally came to his senses. 

She watched as Casino and Chief left the park, headed to the pub where they were to meet the other guys. As they faded from view, she smiled and turned back to Christine, a smile of utter sweetness on her face.

"Face it, lady, you lost the roll. Better find someone else. Trust me on that. You are totally out of your league." 

Coura gave a fast, knowing look at Christine, direct eye to eye contact, a look with an unspoken menace that was totally unexpected, and one Christine had the oddest feeling she should pay attention to. There was just something about those oddly-shaped amber eyes, those eyeteeth that were far too long and pointed, something that made her think of fairy tales in a totally different sense than 'happily ever after' - Billy Goat Gruff, and the Big Bad Wolf, and a few others that had given her childish nightmares.

Coura's smile deepened, thoughtfully giving Christine a slightly better look at her fangs, uh, teeth. 

"Exactly. You'll find someone else, I'm sure, a sweeeeeet, tender, juicy little thing like you." 

Coura decided to gild the lily by licking her lips, slowly, before continuing. Yes, she knew her sisters would groan, calling it 'overkill', but one thing about using a sledgehammer for a troublesome ant, metaphorically speaking of course - that particular ant rarely came back to cause any more trouble. Just as she doubted this little troublesome creature would be back to stir the pot.

"Best not wait too long, though, sweet Christine; you're not getting any younger. But that shouldn't be a problem for you - waiting just isn't your strong suit, is it? Have a nice day." 

And she turned and followed after the two men. Hell, she could use a good drink herself. Talking to cunning little fools like the one she'd just left had that effect on her, always had. Well, and that ever so tiny shift impacting only her teeth and her eyes; that usually not only gave her a thirst but an appetite as well. {"Imagine Goniff will have snacks ordered by the time I get there,"} and she slightly quickened her pace in anticipation.

She paused at the corner, looked back one last time. It was with wry amusement she saw a well-dressed middle-aged man, sympathy evident in every line of his body leaning over the gently sobbing woman with the sweet face and woebegone eyes, offering her his handkerchief. Saw Christine gazing up at him with quivering lips, all soft and helpless.

{"No, doesn't look like she's going to have to wait too long at all,"} Coura snorted, and went on her way. {"So sweet, juicy, tender - maybe I can talk the guys into an early lunch."}

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies (well, sort of) to a good friend who had such a different impression of Christine. Yes, I know, but my muse just didn't agree, as you can tell. But, as you say, M, that's what makes horse races.


End file.
